


Thunderbolt and Lightning, Very Very Frightening Me

by Thette



Series: My Coldflash Bingo [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, No Smut, Rated For Violence, Unconsciousness, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: Mark Mardon attacks the Flash, and Len would really have preferred to leave him on the street, unconscious. Unfortunately, that would expose him, and Len would lose his leverage.That's all it is. Really. That's the whole reason he takes the Flash to his safehouse to recover.





	Thunderbolt and Lightning, Very Very Frightening Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_DoctorSimba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_DoctorSimba/gifts).



> Written (as a pinch hit, with very short notice) for The_DoctorSimba.
> 
> _"Second Prompt: Barry and Leonard have never seen eye to eye, Barry is a hero and Len is a criminal after all. But that all changes when Barry gets hurt in a fight, not by Len, and Len just happens to find the unconscious speedster. Len takes him to a safe house and has to deal with an unconscious Barry until he wakes up, and Barry won’t stop saying there’s good in him and grinning like an idiot. Well, maybe good’s not in him yet but if Barry is good then he’d sure like have good in him, or be in good. (Flirting and possibly sex or at least the potential for sex later.)"_
> 
> Also written for the hurt/comfort square for my Coldflash Bingo card. Contains semi-graphical description of injuries.
> 
> Betaed by the lovely SophiaCatherine. Title from Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. (Five minutes after titling this fic, Bohemian Rhapsody started playing on my random playlist.)

It all started with Mark Mardon. Mark fucking Mardon, on the rampage again. They've been allies in the past, but Len had distanced himself from the guy, because he was dangerous and unpredictable and dangerously unpredictable. (The only person in his life who got to be dangerously unpredictable was Mick, and he had fucking earned it. Mardon could come back after he had saved Len's life, not just gotten him out of prison.)

Believe it or not, Len hadn't even been casing the jeweler's shop. He was there to find a present for Lisa, and actually buy it. Even thieves enjoyed having jewelry that could be used in public. Mardon, that fucking jackass, hit the bank across the street, apparently without a plan. Just waltzed in, storm clouds swirling around him, and took the tellers hostage. Len would have rolled his eyes, if it weren't for the unfortunate fact that the block was now crawling with CCPD officers, in both plain clothes and uniforms. If they saw him here, they'd draw the wrong conclusion. He wasn't even wearing his parka or carrying the cold gun, but that wouldn't save him in this situation. Fuck.

"I'll give you a hundred if you let me go out the back door," he told the cashier, who took one look at his face and froze, his eyes wide open in recognition. Damn. He really thought the sunglasses and black suit would help him hide. "Don't bother with the alarm," he said. "They won't have time for you anyway."

Outside, the characteristic tornado was picking up speed, and wouldn't you know it, there was a speck of red with yellow lighting going in the opposite direction around it. Mardon had complained about that move a lot when they were working together. Apparently, gathering up a tornado demanded a lot of energy, and having it unravel gave him one hell of a headache. This time, Len couldn't help but cheer the Flash on, vindictively.

Two uniformed police officers went down, hit by lightning, and Len winced. He knew how much that hurt, and he hoped they would survive. If cops died from Mardon's unplanned heist, and Len was caught  in the same neighborhood, nobody would believe he'd just been there by chance. Fuck this. He needed to get out there, to stop his former associate.

He ran to his bike, hunched over, trying to not look like a supervillain. Nothing to see here, cops. A horde of freaked civilians were going the same way, dodging hailstones the size of melons. He joined them, thankful for the cover. Nobody had made him, yet.

There it was, his gun! He picked it up from the saddle bag, powering it up without proper protection. The cold spread up his arms, and he desperately wished for his insulated gloves. It didn't matter. Minor frostbite, at most. He'd heal.

One well-aimed blast of cold felled Mardon like a tree, but it didn't stop him from hitting the Flash with a bolt of lightning, lifting him up in the air like a kite.

Barry let out a blood-curdling scream, and fell to the ground unconscious, his pretty face bruised and burned.

Fuck.

Len was tempted, oh, so tempted, to just leave him there, to let Barry deal with his colleagues alone. But he couldn't. He knew they'd take the very first chance they got to unmask him, to charge him with vigilantism. Len would lose his only hold over him if the whole city knew his identity.

Fuck.

There was nothing to do but to pick him up and carry him.

One block later, his back and knees reminded him he wasn't as young as he used to be. He picked up his burner phone, and pressed 1 to dial one of the two stored numbers.

"Lise? I need a pickup, corner of Penn and Fifth. Now!"

When a nondescript beige Volvo station wagon stopped at the corner, ten minutes later, Len had given up on holding up the Flash. He'd put him down, as gently as he could, on some trash bags in the back alley. It was the best he could do at the time, but he regretted it, when he had to pick him up again.

"Is this the smell of heroism in the afternoon?" he asked, knowing full well that Barry couldn't hear him.

"Lenny!" Lisa crooned, smirking at him and cocking her hips. "You brought me a present, and it's not even my birthday yet!"

Len stuffed the Flash into the back of the car, and got in the passenger seat himself. "Let's go, sis!" he shouted. "There are cops everywhere."

She drove away, listening to him telling the story. Well, certain selected parts of the story. He didn't mention how he had saved the Flash and shot Mardon. From what he could see of her face, as she focused on the road, she might infer most of it, anyway.

"So, you're taking care of  _ the Flash, _ out of the goodness of your heart? That's not like you at all, Lenny. What's in it for you?"

"I'm keeping my leverage," he replied. That was it. That was all he was thinking about.

***

Lisa helped him get Barry out of the car and into their least favorite safehouse, where they promptly dumped him on the ratty couch. She was not very happy about him forcing her to leave, and he knew he'd pay for it later. Damn. Better make her birthday present a bigger gold necklace.

He pushed the cowl back, looking at Barry's exposed face. It was 35 minutes and 15 seconds since the attack. He should be awake by now. The bruises and lightning burns were fading rapidly, mere shadows of their earlier marks. Did he have rapid healing? Wouldn't surprise Len, considering how he had gone up against both absolute zero cold and fire without much protection. That kind of recklessness suggested he could take a beating. Len felt for his pulse, at the angle of his jaw. It was a rapid beat, but steady and full, not thready. Was this Flash-normal or was he bleeding out? Who knew?

Len looked away. If he wanted to see if Barry was bleeding, he'd need to undress him. A voice in his head, that sounded suspiciously like Lisa, suggested that he should take his chance to see if there was butt padding in the suit, or if that ass actually was real. Len ignored the dirty suggestions, but started to feel around the neckline for zippers or hooks.

The Flash suit was complicated to remove, with hidden buttons and zippers. It stuck to Barry's skin, even though he seemed to be using baby powder underneath. Before pulling the suit down any further than the top of Barry's hips, Len considered the half-naked man on his couch. People didn't bleed out from their legs, did they?

There was extensive bruising and small, red scars along Barry's right side, but his ribs didn't crackle when Len ran his hands along them. That was good, at least. Most of the bruises were still purple, but the edges were already going brown, and they didn't seem to be growing. Also good, Len guessed, from how he used to look himself after prison fights.

As he watched, he could see the scars knit themselves together and disappear. It was an unsettling sight, even more than watching Barry use his powers usually was. He was reminded that the person in front of him wasn't human any more. Metahumans, they freaked him out sometimes.

Barry woke with a gasp, and sat up straight. "Whuh?" he asked, semi-coherently.

Len sat back at the other end of the couch, trying hard to get his Captain Cold face back on. "Hello, Barry," he said.

Barry patted his legs, his torso, stopping to take stock of his nudity, and then up towards his face. He groaned. "Please, tell me you were the one who took the mask off…"

"Don't worry, Barry. It's in my best interest to keep your identity secret." Barry didn't seem to be bothered to be undressed, just unmasked, which was interesting. Len decided not to comment.

"Ow, I can feel my ribs knitting back together. I hate that," Barry said, running a hand lightly along his side.

"Better than the alternative. You took quite a hit. Mardon got you with lightning, and then you fell from at least ten feet up. Wasn't sure if you were bleeding out when we got you back here."

"We?" Barry asked, looking around in alarm.

"Lisa drove us here. She's no longer around." Len didn't know why it was important to reassure his enemy.

"I owe her one," he said, calming down. 

"Well, it's her birthday in a week. I'm sure you can think of something nice to steal for her. She loves gold."

Barry guffawed, and winced in pain. "Ouch, no. Don't be funny, Snart, I can't take that with broken ribs."

Len smirked. "I'm sorry, Barry, I'm hilarious and there's nothing you can do about it."

Barry pursed his lips, clearly trying hard not to laugh. He raised a single finger, and shook it like he was scolding Len, before leaning back. "And you," he continued. "I owe you for this. Big time. I always knew there was good in you."

"The first thing you can do to pay off that debt is to stop insisting on that," Len sighed. Did they have to go over this  _ again? _ It was getting old.

"Never," Barry smiled. Oh, that smile. It was a weapon, and he sure knew how to wield it. "One day, I'm gonna get you to admit that you have a secret heart of gold."

"Don't count on me helping kittens down from trees anytime soon," Len said, trying to be done with the conversation.

Barry groaned again, and burrowed deeper into the pillows. His feet found their way into Len's lap, and Len was just about to object, real soon now. Real. Soon.

One of his hands came up to stroke Barry's ankles, as if it wasn't under his conscious control. Barry moved his feet, stretching the toes up and down. Before Len knew what he was doing, he pressed his thumbs into Barry's soles, through the supple boots. What was this suit made of?

"Reinforced tripolymer," Barry mumbled. So, Len had said that out loud. "Cisco invented it. So I don't catch on fire when I run."

"You catch on fire when you run?" Barry nodded with a grin. "Don't tell Mick that, or you'll never get him off your ass."

Barry snorted. "It's not  _ Mick _ I want on my ass."

No, obviously not. Len knew he'd been in love with Ms West for ages. It didn't take a genius, once he had seen them together. The way he moved around her, the way he looked at her… Len took a sudden interest in the boarded up windows.

"Hey, Snart… Leonard." A hand landed on his elbow, touching him lightly. He didn't twitch, but it was only his iron hard self control that kept him from shaking it off.

Len would never admit how much he liked it when Barry said his name. "Yes,  _ Bartholomew." _ That didn't mean he couldn't tease him.

"What do you want me to call you, then? Lenny?"

"That's for Lisa, and Lisa only." He tilted his head, watching Barry's long fingers touching him out of the corner of his eye. "You can call me Len, if you want."

"Hey, Len... " Barry's voice was warm and amused, and much closer than when he last spoke. "It's not Mick I want. It's  _ you." _ He leaned in, and kissed Len carefully on the cheek. 

Len turned, meeting Barry's lips eagerly with his own. He wanted to kiss, to touch, to feel, but he needed to be careful. He was not willing to cause more injuries. Instead of devouring Barry's mouth, like he wanted, he kept the kiss light and fleeting, just lips moving against lips, his hands holding Barry's cheeks.

Barry moved away, letting his forehead rest against Len's. "Hey, Len, want me to be the good in you?"

Len groaned. That was such a bad line, and it was irresistible. He raised an eyebrow. "You be the good in me, and I'll be the bad in you."

**Author's Note:**

> Proper trauma protocol involves undressing the injured person completely, because you can indeed bleed out from the pelvis or legs. Len does not know this.
> 
> A head injury with 30+ minutes of unconsciousness is a very severe head injury.
> 
> Don't take medical advice from fanfic, not even when written by a physician.


End file.
